The Iliad of Artemis
by Ms. Marla
Summary: A tale of lust and love. Of revenge and redemption. Of wrath and war.  Things aren't always what they seem, making deception a most dangerous thing.
1. Prologue

**The Iliad of Artemis**

_Prologue_

They say power corrupts you and turns you into a different person. Let me tell you a little secret. They only say that because power makes a great scapegoat. I doubt any of you, any one of you that hasn't held real power, knows that corruption is a load of crap, fed to you by some self-righteous moron.

I stand there, the sweat dripping from my palms and running down the sleek metal handle of the gun. Each drop hits the delicate Persian rug and seems to echo a thousand times, giving the room its own heartbeat. Blank computer screens stare at me accusingly, as if they know what I'm doing. I'll have no qualms over smashing them when I'm finished my business here. His technology always bothered me to no end anyways.

What I'm doing now, this is real power. It's running through my veins, filling every pore of my body with a euphoric feeling. And guess what? I am still the same person I always have been. Perhaps I'm a bit more excited today. Or perhaps the gurgling in my stomach is severe nerves. Ultimate power does not corrupt. It simply gives you bad indigestion.

No safety, one bullet. And that's all it's going to take to end the miserable life I now hold in my hands. I could practically dance over the success of this entire operation; however I wish to retain my dignity for years to come. Instead, I turn to gloating, to the terribly clichéd art of the monologue. After all, I doubt I'll ever get a chance like this again.

"Any last words, love?" I ask, with what I sincerely hope to be villainous sarcasm.

The man in front of me tears his eyes away from the barrel of my gun, an action which I can not confirm as stupid or brave. He looks up at me, his face an unreadable mask. His eyes, perfectly mismatched, meet mine and I feel my heart begin to hammer. I have always adored those eyes, so mysterious, so desirable. It's such a shame that once I apply a tiny bit more pressure on the trigger those eyes will close forever. Somehow, for a reason I know I will never understand, he smiles at me. I use the world 'smile' as a very general term. His lips curl upwards and the smirk makes him look more sinister than I do. Seeing as how I'm supposed to be the villain, that's a rather sad notion. I know he's going to ask me an infuriating question. Oh well, it'll make it all the easier to finally kill him.

"Are you happy Ronnie?"

This, I had not expected, not that I plan on letting my surprise show. I, instead, take to rolling my eyes, perhaps a bit too melodramatically and make a quick mental note to hold back on the drama for the rest of this man's life, which will only be a few more minutes, tops. I had been right though, the infuriating question had come. And now I'm being stared at expectantly, as though I'm actually going to give an answer and not pull the trigger.

"Of course I'm happy, _Arty_."

The words flow from my mouth before I even realize I'm saying them. Damn it. My answer seems to amuse him, as his smirk grows even wider. There is laughter in his eyes, but it does not spread to his lips. He knows a mistake of that calibre could be fatal. And so, he takes to more infuriating questions. A small part of my brain would have actually preferred his laughter. Please make note that I mean an _extremely_ small part.

"Then why are you doing this?" He smoothes the non-existent crease that has formed on his Armani blazer; a blazer soon do be drenched in his own blood. As he smoothes, I sigh audibly. Welcome to psychology 101 with Artemis Fowl. I've grown so used to this that my response is close to robotic.

"Don't play games with me Artemis," I warn, "It only makes me want to hurt you more."

There is truth in my statement; of that much I try to convince myself. Sadly, in the back of my mind a small voice keeps screaming 'liar.' I glare with bitter contempt at the only other occupant of this desolate room. Artemis Fowl, a man I'll most certainly never forget. And not even because I know mine will be the last face he ever sees. The man has a certain mannerism about him, something haunting. I'll take his face to the grave with me.

"I don't play games," he replies, his voice unsettling steady for someone held at gunpoint, "Not unless I intend to win."

Something inside my stomach tells me that I should take his words for the cryptic threat they are. Or maybe that's just the three café latté I had this morning repeating. However, my extremely stubborn nature does not allow me to be intimidated so easily. Especially not by someone in Artemis Fowl's position.

"That's a pity," I say, the trembling of my hands steadying quite a bit. Conversation has always calmed me, especially when shared with Artemis. Although I did not imagine this to be the right time for small talk. "Because we've been playing all along and you've lost."

"Is that so?" And somehow, Artemis has managed to keep his suave composure. He raises a thin, raven black eyebrow at me. My nerves nearly fall apart. At this point, I know I should shoot. It's like one of those now or never moments. Sadly, my desire to make Artemis feel two inches tall gets the better of me, and I miss my now.

"It's very much so," I say mockingly, "You were destined to lose, playing into my hands all along." My monologue is beginning, and I throw my mental sticky of 'no dramatics' straight out the door. I swear, I was born to be an actress. Hollywood would have a hard time finding someone more convincing than I.

"Everything you've done has been playing right into my hands," I continue, taking a few steps towards Artemis, the gun still focused somewhere near his heart, which I hope is pumping blood just as fast as my own. "Everything has been a setup. The fairies, the mindwipe, all of it."

"Everything?" He echoes my explanation in a lulling voice. I nod curtly, trying my best to contain emotion within my mind and keep it from etching itself onto my face. Artemis smiles all knowingly and I feel my throat go dry. I've always dreaded that smile upon someone like Artemis. Whatever comes next, I don't expect it to be at all pleasant.

"Does that imply that the sex was set up as well?" I nearly wince at the 'below the belt' comment. His voice is mocking me. I breathe deeply through my nose, swallowing the anger that has built up in my throat. Artemis wants to see me lose my temper. He wants to have the last laugh, even if it costs him his life. I will not give him the satisfaction. A witty comment deserves a witty response, after all.

"No," I sigh, with an air of forced sorrow, "That's something I may miss." Artemis blinks at my response and I smile wryly. Perhaps I have finally shut him up.

"Very heartfelt Veronica, but don't think you've won just yet."

Apparently he still has something to say. Oh well, that's what bullets are for. I am curious though…

"What do you mean?" I notice that my voice is colder than usual, more corrupt. No. Ultimate power does not corrupt. "Of course I've won. This isn't chess Arty dear, this is real life. This is something you've always had a bit of trouble with, no?"

I've hit a nerve, that much is obvious. Artemis tenses; his shoulders tight, a slight frown on his lips. For some reason this reversal of rolls makes me unbelievably happy. I'm in control again, and I don't plan on that changing.

I move closer to Artemis, so close that I can hear his soft breathing sharpen as I press the gun against his chest. He's scared, but there is still confidence there. It would have been unbelievable, had he not been Artemis Fowl. He leans his lips towards my ear, sending chills down my spine, as had happened on so many previous occasions.

"Cheaters never win," he whispers. I nearly laugh at his ironic choice of words. Maybe it was done on purpose.

"In which sense of the word?" I whisper back. There is no need for anything louder. The scene is oddly romantic, in a macabre sort of way.

"We could have been great Veronica," he says, ignoring my question. We both already know the answer. "But you're a murderer and a traitor."

His last sentence is laced with venom and it is at that point I realize the fine line between love and hate. A line that could very well be less visible than the separation of being a genius and being insane. Both of which, I have accused Artemis of.

"Does it really make a difference?" I ask quietly. As I speak, my mind races back to the day when Artemis asked me that same question. Of course the circumstances were completely different, perhaps even comical. I feel a slight twinge of guilt strike my heart, but quickly push it away. Now is not the time for second thoughts. It's too late now.

"Maybe," Artemis answers. I feel his hands wrap around my wrists and pull downwards, the gun now pointed uselessly at the ground. "Do you really want to kill me Ronnie?"

Now that is a wonderful question. I'm not so sure myself. Usually, what a person wants and what a person needs are two very different things, and this is no exception. I need to kill Artemis Fowl. If not, my plan comes crumbling down around my ears and I'm screwed. Artemis senses my indecision and uses it to his advantage. Not that it makes him a great hero or anything. He doesn't even have a gun pointed at him anymore.

"Think about it Ronnie," he says softly, as though speaking to a wounded animal. And I listen. I think. And my mind races back to the day this entire mess began.

--x—

_A/N: Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome to let me know if I should continue. I don't own Artemis Fowl. I didn't write the Iliad. Homer did. This is named after his story due to themes. I also have to thank Nikki, for the beta and for her help with the plot. Without her, this story would still be a tiny voice in the back of my head, begging to be freed. It seriously sucked before. Anyways, review. Cheers!_

_-Liv xoxo_


	2. One

_A/N: Thank you to all of you who reviewed. You honestly have no idea how much your input means to me. Now, the first chapter was written in present tense, as it was happening in the moment. The rest of the story, for now, will be in the past tense, seeing as how it is a flashback. I hope you were able to draw that conclusion from the last couple of sentences of the prologue. I'm sure you were. Anyways, please enjoy this next, and technically first, chapter. _

_Oh, and I'm sorry I've taken forever to update. As you probably know, I was on vacation. And then, once I arrived home, I was terribly sick. But I'm better now and I promise updates will be more frequent than every two weeks. Thank you for your patience. _

-x-x-x-

**One**

_In Which An Ancient Battle Is Won By Sneakers_

People do a lot of stupid things. They start wars, pollute the environment, and, in my case, get married. I'm the perfect example of how love can blind and turn even the most intelligent individual into a gibbering moron. I mean, you date a guy for seven months and you think you know him well enough. That way, when he pops the big question, of course you say yes.

That was the worst mistake I had ever made in my life. Richard was definitely not husband material, even with his great hair. He was lazy, didn't have a well-paying job, and was a lousy listener. But of course, I was ever so happy when I married him. It was one of those 'best day of my life' moments. Looking back, I think I might have been drunk. Well, probably not, but excuses make me feel better about the stupid decision.

We had been married for a whole five hours before the arguments had started. And in the four years we spent together, they hadn't ended. I was twenty-six, living the same scenario in and out, day after day. It was enough to drive anyone batty. As of last Christmas, when I received nothing but a bruise as a present, I decided I wanted out. This life was not for me. I hated the arguing every day and night, the shouting, the loud crashing of breaking ceramic. I had nearly no plates left.

It was a clear blue Saturday, sometime in April that I had finally taken enough. Richard was in his usual armchair, taking a nice relaxing break after our routine morning fight. This time, it was because I hadn't bought the cereal he liked. Can you say three year old child? It was this petty argument that finally smacked me in the face like a tonne of bricks. I needed some time to myself, to relax; to purge myself of all Richard related thoughts.

As I sifted through my closet, trading my grey sweatpants for a pair of baggy jeans, I wondered where on Earth I would go. I had no car, as I had never bothered getting my licence. As a result, I was cursed to be stuck in this stupid little town, looking at the same stupid little houses. Perhaps a café somewhere. You know, sit down with a nice book and a latte. Now that sounded like a plan. I couldn't help but to smile as I donned a plain blue t-shirt. However, if I would have known what that night would cost me, my lips would be folded into anything other than a smile.

But, I wasn't physic so I proceeded to, as Richard said, 'put on my face'. I was never one for much makeup. It itched terribly and I always ended up smudging it in one way or another. Today was different though. I wanted to look stunning, so that as I walked out the house, Richard would know exactly what he was missing. There was also another thought racing through the back of my mind, though I would never admit it. In moments, the makeup was done and hair was naturally ready. A bob is so easy to take care of. Just brush and go, that's how I live. And the colour wasn't half bad either, a really nice delicate blonde, with all credit going to the best hair colourist in Dublin.

I was almost ready to go. I know that I should've just packed up and left, but as I said, there was a nagging thought in the back of my mind, one that told me to look my best. And, as every lady knows, an outfit is not complete without the perfect pair of shoes. Today, it was down to the age-old battle of comfort versus sex appeal. Sneakers versus heels. After some serious deliberation, about three minutes worth, I had chosen the sneakers. They were worn out, ancient looking, and perfect for the casual bachelorette look I was going for.

I felt almost guilty as I exited my bedroom, which was separate from Richard's, slipping off my wedding band as I did so. However, as I entered back into the main room of the apartment, I saw my _husband's_ eyes on me.

"Get me a beer," he muttered demandingly.

All trace of guilt left and I felt sad that I had not taken the opportunity to flush the ring down the toilet.

"Get it yourself," I replied tensely, "I'm going out."

I moved towards the door, Richard's eyes boring into my back. I had my palm grasped around the doorknob before he spoke.

"Where you goin'?"

I cringed. What beautiful use of the English language. Oh well, Richard never was one for much intelligence. We barely got by with his mediocre job. I myself had not continued on with education after high school, although I wanted nothing more than to go back and obtain a degree in history. Political leaders had always fascinated me, what with their power over people.

"Out," I replied stiffly, continuing to walk out the door. Richard didn't interrupt me again. I knew he wouldn't care if I never came back, or if I was found dead in a ditch the next morning. What would bother him most would be having to move his ass to get his own beer.

Public transportation sucks. It's dirty and it never really gets you to where you have to be. Plus, it always seems to be my luck to get stuck sitting next to creeps. Today was no exception. On my left there was a very short old lady mumbling to herself in a language I had never heard before and on my right there sat a very smelly teenaged boy, no doubt having just finished an athletic activity of some sort. It took an excruciatingly long hour to travel the seven stops to my favourite coffee shop, but as soon as the bus driver hit the breaks I was off the vehicle, never happier to smell fresh air.

Carson's Café, my favourite place on Earth, save perhaps the Swiss Alps. Carson, the owner and a personal friend makes the greatest cappuccino known to man, and his lattes aren't half bad either. They're my preference. I usually only visit once a week, but this would be my third visit this week. I knew Carson wouldn't mind. He was a tiny bit flamboyant and loved the lively conversations we took part in.

I entered the café and noticed that, as usual, there were very few people inside. It was a very homey atmosphere and I think that was why I adored it so much. It made up for the home I lacked inside my apartment. As I approached the counter, I saw Carson smiling at me with perfect white teeth. I wished my smile could look nearly as wonderful as his. Every time I told him such he would always counter my comment, telling me he was envious over my 'emerald eyes'. I told him they looked more like dirty seaweed.

"Will it be the usual beautiful?" he asked.

I nodded, a happy laugh escaping from my lips and Carson got straight to work on my latte. I must admit, it was better than anything I had ever tasted before. I guess he could kind of sense I was upset, so he put some extra sugar in there. Pardon the pun, but he sure was a sweetheart.

As I sipped quietly on my coffee, I looked around at the occupants of the café. One in particular caught my eye. He was sitting off in a secluded corner, his nose buried in a newspaper. I don't know how long I stared, but eventually he looked up and our eyes met. There seemed to be something electrifying in his gaze and I was compelled to keep looking. In fact, my eyes didn't blink once as he stood, neatly folded his newspaper, and approached the counter, taking the seat next to me.

"Nice day, isn't it?"

His voice was casual, laid back, and almost seductive. I smiled ever so slightly as I raised my coffee to my lips once more, my eyes surveying this man over the lid. I liked his hair; jet black and an organised mess. I suppose that was the right way to describe it.

"It's not bad," I replied coolly. The man smirked as if he were going to enjoy the challenge of making conversation.

"My name is Artemis," he introduced himself, holding out a pale hand. I nearly dropped my latte all over my lap.

"Fowl?" I questioned. He nodded, his smirk growing.

"That would be me," he said, "I see my reputation proceeds me."

"That's not technically a good thing."

It was a perfectly honest statement. The Fowl family was known all over Ireland for their less than legal affairs. Even if they had been quiet for the past few years, everyone would always remember their escapades.

"Touché," Artemis said with a slight chuckle, "And your name?"

"Veronica," I told him. And then I returned my attention to my drink. I knew from experience that when it came to men, your first impression should never count for anything. I noticed that Artemis glanced quickly at my hands, no doubt scanning for a wedding band. Of course, he would not find one. Thoughts that had been swimming in the back of my mind all day were starting to surface.

"So Veronica," Artemis said, still trying to sound casual and failing almost miserably, "What do you do for a living?"

I nearly rolled my eyes. Such a typical question, it was obvious he had never really asked a woman out before. Of course, his simple question led to flirtation, which led to a date, which led to…other things. However, I wasn't exactly sure how to respond. What was I supposed to say?

_Oh well, you see, I'm married to this horrid guy and I really hate him. I'm not doing anything special with my life and I wish you would just get on with it and ask me out on a date that way I can forget about the asshole I left at home._

"I…uh…I study history," I answered. A tiny white lie. I technically only left out the 'want to' part of the sentence. It was an error anyone could make. Really.

"History," Artemis echoed, "Very nice. It's important I suppose, to make sure we don't repeat our dreadful past mistakes."

"Yepp." It was the only answer I could muster. Artemis had just spouted the most textbook worthy answer ever. However, I did not agree with him. The truth was, I only liked history so much because I wanted to analyze what all powerful leaders had in common. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to have a say in something. I wanted to be powerful.

Artemis chuckled again at my minimal answer. I ignored his obvious approval of my stupidity and drained the last of my latte.

"Can I get you another?" he asked in a very gentlemanly tone. I shook my head. It was time to do things my way. I know it would make me a horrible person but…

"I'd prefer dinner."

"Is that an invitation for a date?" It had taken a moment for him to answer. Shocked, I suppose, that it would be so simple to snag me.

"I figured you were getting around to it," I answered, smiling myself.

"I would have," Artemis admitted, "How does tonight sound?"

"It sounds wondrous," I replied, while thinking how absolutely desperate that sounded. "Now, if you'd excuse me."

I stood and placed the exact change for the latte on the counter, waved goodbye to Carson and quickly jotted down my cell phone number for Artemis. And then I left, without another word. I noticed that the short woman from the bus was sitting on the bench outside. Odd.

It slipped my mind, however, as I thought about my date with a very eligible bachelor. This would be interesting.

-x-x-x-

_A/N: I hope that was worth the wait. Please review and let me know what you think. Thank you so much. Cheers!_

_-Liv xoxo _


	3. Two

_A/N: Okay guys, I'm really absolutely terribly sorry that I've taken forever to update. It's just that I was kind of unsure about this story for a while. In fact I wanted to delete it and start all over again, but I decided to stick it out. As it sits right now, this isn't my top priority story, although I will keep writing it. Updates won't be as frequent as they used to be for any of my stories in fact, simply because I'm busy with school and now I have one of the leads in the school play, so a lot of my time will be devoted to rehearsal. I have not forgotten this story, but if for any reason I see disappointment in my readers over what I have written I will start the story again, brand new and fresh. I hope you read that and I hope it made sense. Enjoy! I love you all!_

-x-x-x-

**Two**

_In Which the Lobster Gets the Better of Me _

My date with Artemis Fowl. Well, it was actually quite interesting. He called me about an hour after I left the café, telling me that he had forgotten to take down my address. And there I was, under the assumption he was one of the most intelligent men on Earth. Yeah right. Men are all morons.

Stupidity aside, I didn't give Artemis my address. Not my real one at any rate. Instead, I indicated that he should pick me up at the university campus just outside the city where I was supposedly studying history. I'm a filthy liar, I know. Sue me.

On second thought, don't.

So Fowl picked me up at the designated address at the designated time, just like a proper gentleman, if there was such a thing. We went out to dinner and a quaint little restaurant on the outskirts of Dublin. When I say quaint, I was of course referring to the décor. One look at the menu and I nearly gagged on the mineral water our waiter had brought us before I was even fully seated. There was definitely nothing quaint about these prices. I almost felt bad that I was hungry. Then again, it was Artemis who had chosen the place. And it was Artemis who was rich.

My guilt was gone with the first bite of that delicious buttered lobster.

We ate, we drank, and we had fun. I'll admit it. The two hours I spent in the restaurant with Artemis were the best two hours of my life. All thoughts of Richard were driven right from my mind, including the lie I had fed him about babysitting for my sister that evening. My sister didn't even have kids. I guess that shows you how much Richard and I know about each other. And how much we care.

Maybe, just maybe, I had a little too much of that Italian red wine because when Artemis asked me back to his house I found myself agreeing without any second thoughts.

And well, you know how the story goes.

I woke up the next morning wishing I could do nothing more than turn the Sun off. Realizing that this was impossible, I opted for closing the blinds. However, when I started to get out of bed to do so; I noticed that I was not in my own bedroom. Whoever slept in here had a lot of space. This bedroom was bigger than my living room.

"Fowl," I muttered under my breath. I got out of the bed that was not mine and stepped onto the sleek hardwood floor that was also not mine. I did see my jeans though, on the other side of the room.

My palm hit my face, potentially harder than I had anticipated and I blinked back the stinging pain I had just caused myself, gathering up my clothes and quickly getting dressed. I really wanted a shower, but I didn't want to seem imposing.

_Oh no, because sleeping with a guy on your first date is not imposing at all. Idiot, idiot, idiot._

After mentally beating myself up, a pretty obvious thought had struck me. I was alone in the bedroom. That was lovely. Well, maybe I had imagined the whole thing. Maybe I was that drunk. Liver damage would seem like a positive alternative to the actual facts of last night. With a sigh, I gathered what little dignity I had left and exited the room.

The house wasn't as big as I'd imagined. I'd seen Fowl Manor from the outside and it looked a lot bigger. There were only two other rooms in the hallway and a set of stairs at the end. I followed the carpet all the way down the stairs, stepping onto the ceramic tiles and creeping into the kitchen, which just happened to be the first room to my left.

Artemis was already in there, fully dressed in a suit. If that wasn't an invitation for me to leave than I didn't know what was. He was sitting at the cherry wood table sipping coffee out of a large, black mug. And he looked totally distracted. 

Attention grabbing time.

I cleared my throat loudly, which apparently startled the handsome man in the expensive suit. Artemis, after jumping about ten feet in the air, turned to look at me, his face flushed. Neither of us said anything for a good minute. It was the most awkward moment of my life. Worse than asking your parents where babies come from. That day, I'll never forget. Finally, Artemis' thin lips cracked into a strained smile.

"Good morning Veronica," he said weakly. I hoped he wasn't trying to be cheery because he was failing miserably.

"Good morning," I muttered, not moving anything but my lips, "Uh…nice place you got here."

Very smooth Veronica, very smooth.

"Oh this," Artemis motioned around the room with the hand free of a coffee mug, "It's just a summer house a good friend owns. I like to spend some alone time here once in a while."

"Right," I said, "I'll get going then."

"You won't join me for a cup of coffee?"

The request took me by complete surprise. However, I smiled politely before giving my answer.

"I don't think so."

"Why not?" Artemis asked, looking taken aback. I certainly couldn't tell him the truth. _Oh, you know, my husband might be worried about me. I doubt it, but you never know. It was nice meeting you._

"My…my roommate is probably worried. I've never stayed out all night before. She's going to kill me when I get back to our apartment."

"Fair enough," Artemis smiled. There was an awkward pause and I could tell he wanted to say something else. It just seemed that his mind wasn't sending the proper words to his mouth.

"Look," I mumbled, "About last night…"

"I know," he cut me off, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked you to come…I…I don't know."

I giggled. I couldn't help it. His total innocence act – because I doubted Artemis Fowl was truly innocent – seemed adorable.

"It's alright," I said, "Things just got a little out of hand."

"A lot," he corrected.

"Sure. A lot. But we're adults, let's move on."

And that was that. We moved on. We went on another date. And then another. And everything was totally cool. Things didn't get really interesting until our fourth date. Although, interesting is a bit of an understatement.

-x-x-x-

_A/N: Opinions? Feedback? I don't know. Anything. Hope you found that acceptable, if not okay. Thanks a bunch! Cheers!_

_-Liv xoxo_


	4. Three

_In Which I Make an Impossible Promise_

Everyone has those weird little quirks that make them unique. Take this guy I knew in high school. He had to have his shoes custom made. Why? Because his feet were a massive size eighteen. Pretty damn strange, if you ask me. However, I'd have to say that the most inimitable peculiarity I have ever laid eyes on belonged to one Artemis Fowl. To be honest, I'm not exactly sure why I was surprised.

It was a Friday evening and we were hanging out in that summer house of his friend's – who I had recently learned was not simply a friend but an ex-bodyguard to a teenaged Artemis. Like I said before, rich people scream with eccentricities. So we were just sitting on the couch watching some incredibly boring movie that Artemis had chosen. And yes, we were cuddling rather closely.

Now, if Artemis had wanted to keep his rather interesting little trait to himself, he did a very poor job in hiding it. He ran his hands down my cheeks, rubbing his thumb underneath my eye. And then I caught sight of the strangest thing ever.

"What the hell is wrong with your fingers?" For a split second, I felt like I was at the circus freak show or something. Artemis' fingers were…how can I describe it? Let's say, out of order – his middle finger was where his pointer should have been and vice versa. It was uncanny that I hadn't noticed before. Artemis said nothing. Rather, he stood slowly and looked at me intensely, calm as ever.

"It's a birth defect," he said quietly. Yeah, okay. He may as well have told me that he's invented the world's first time machine.

"Do you think I'm stupid Artemis?" I asked, "That's a lie."

"A lie?" he repeated, raising a slender eyebrow at me, "You would know all about lies, wouldn't you Veronica?" I felt my heart skip a beat, but surprisingly, my face remained impassive. I told you, I was one hell of an actress.

"I don't know what you mean," I told him, inching to the edge of the plaid sofa. Artemis chuckled slightly. It was that chuckle, mixed with the look of utter brilliance in his eyes that told me he knew everything. My throat suddenly got very dry, but I was determined not to let it show.

"Oh please Veronica," he whispered dangerously, "Don't tell me you think I don't know? I'm not as thick as Richard is." I stood up abruptly, ready for an argument. But I found that as I came face to face with Artemis, looking into his eyes, feeling his hot breath on my cheeks, that I lost all my resolve to fight. I crumbled.

"Who told you?" My question was barely audible, and I'm sure that Artemis would not have heard it, had I been a few inches farther from him.

"What you fail to realize Ronnie," his voice was rather smug, "Is that I know everything. Did you really think that I'd date someone whose history was clouded from me? I did my research, and the results intrigued me. I learned that you're married. Now that, that is very interesting."

His response was so very harsh and clinical that I wasn't sure what to say. Artemis Fowl does not feel love, he researches it. It made a part of me hate him – a very small part of me. Most of me was still madly infatuated with his charm.

"But," Artemis continued, breaking the silence that had taken me, "I am fascinated by your situation. What drove you to be a cheater Veronica?"

I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was the extremely slick and seductive manner with which Artemis interrogated me, but before I knew it, I had pressed myself against him, placing soft kisses on his jaw.

"Does it really matter?" I whispered into his ear. "What drove you to take me in, even after you know?" He pushed me away, delicately though, which was more than I was used to.

"Let's make a deal," Artemis said quietly, once more fixing me with his deep blue eyes.

"Deal," I echoed, "What sort of deal?"

"You tell me the truth, and I'll tell you the truth," Artemis said, "How about that?"

"As simple as that?" 

"Of course not," he chuckled, "Nothing is ever that simple. You must first prove that you're completely devoted to me…and only me. Fair?" I thought about it for a moment. Was it really all that important to know what was up with his fingers? No, not at all; but there was something that made me long to understand Artemis Fowl. He was exactly like all those figures I had read about in history textbooks. He shared their qualities, their personalities. Artemis Fowl was a natural born leader, someone who held more power in his thumb than most people did in their entire bodies. And he captivated me. I wanted what he had, all of it. And before I knew what I had said…

"Fair."

Artemis smirked, and in his perfect white teeth I saw luscious power in all its might. I would uncover the secrets that Artemis Fowl held near and dear and I would indulge in ultimate power.

Little did I know that power had its price. And that price just happened to be freedom. My freedom.

-x-x-x-

_A/N: Short and boring, I know. This story! I don't know what to do. I'm just continuing as things come to me. I know where it's supposed to go but it's having a hard time getting there._

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Oh yes, and please, if you have a moment, check out my story __**Descent.**__ It'd be awesome if you do! Cheers and thanks!_


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